


You In Vermillion

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Creepy Jack, Crossdressing, Knifeplay, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rhys as Jack's PA, Sexual Fantasy, basically just Jack monologuing internally about all the things he wants to do to Rhys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-17 23:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Jack fantasizes about his assistant during the workday.





	You In Vermillion

**Author's Note:**

> I had fun writing this! Jack is a huge creep, pfft. Enjoy!

It’d been a long while since Jack had first realized his new assistant was sexy beyond all belief.

Sure, when Jack had first hired Rhys, he’d recognized the kid wasn’t all that bad to look at. But it was only when they’d worked alongside one another for about a month that Jack truly fell head over heels with infatuation for the kid.

He couldn’t put his finger on the exact trigger—could have been the first time he noticed Rhys’ tendency to roll the end of his stylus between his lips as he thought, or the time Rhys dropped a folder full of shotgun plans and had to bend down and pick them up, or the time he came in late to work without his hair styled, bangs soft and floppy against his forehead—but whatever had caused him to trip into his obsession, he was  _really_  in deep now.  

He considered himself lucky he had Rhys always double checking his messages and advising him on his actions, otherwise he might’ve driven Hyperion into the ground as a consequence of all the daydreaming he did whenever Rhys came into the office. The rational part of Jack’s brain that remained nagged at him to pay attention lest he lose the iron grip of power he had clenched on this arm of the galaxy, but it got harder and harder to pay it mind when thinking about what he wanted to do to Rhys was about a thousand times more pleasurably than approving the next barely-tweaked prototype that came to his desk.

Jack rested his chin in his palm, letting his eyes drift over to the right where Rhys was sitting, desk placed slightly in front of Jack’s own so he could always keep an eye on his assistant. Rhys paid him little mind, if he even noticed, and continued tapping out messages and project requests on the illuminated display shimmering from out of his palm. He could see the side of Rhys’ face occasionally, when he glanced over to his left, and even that little sliver lit Jack’s fantasies on fire.

Rhys could be such a pretty little toy for Jack if the CEO wanted him to. There were so many things Jack wanted to do with him, ideas that had flourished thanks to these long work days he shared with Rhys. Sometimes, Jack would close his eyes and listen, picking up on the faint sounds of Rhys breathing as he wondered how those might change if Jack were to finally get the young man pinned underneath him, or crouched between his legs, or any number of positions Jack loved to mentally cycle through.

He knew Rhys would look wonderful naked. Though he layered on plenty of clothing that didn’t add much to his figure, Jack could still see the general shape of his body beneath the boxy vest and conservative collared shirt, especially with the help of the fairly tight pair of jeans he usually sported. Those long, long,  _long_ legs really sparked Jack’s imagination, and he couldn’t help but think about what they might look like spread out on the edge of his desk, or lying naked against the sheets in his bed.

But a nude Rhys wasn’t the only version that danced through his daydreams, no. In fact, there were plenty of garments and accessories saved in his online shopping lists that he’d held off purchasing solely because he had no one to dress them up in. But now, with a new paramour in his sights, Jack mentally dressed his assistant in all of those old favorites. He could think of quite a few that would look  _fantastic_  on Rhys’ supple body. There were plenty of tight little shorts that would perfectly hug to the young man’s ass and squeeze his thighs, sleek little crop tops made from fabric so thin they’d show off his nipples as they grew hard beneath Jack’s touch.

Not to mention the countless more feminine clothes Jack browsed when he found himself in a  _very_ particular mood. He couldn’t help imagine Rhys wrapped up in all the tights and dresses and skirts he liked best. He watched how Rhys walked and moved sometimes, with a slight awkwardness like he wasn’t sure what to do with his long limbs and height even after all these years, and imagined how that lanky body might look in clothes and accessories designed to magnify grace and posture. Despite his stature, maybe even  _because_  of it, Jack felt it’d suit him.

The boy already wore heels, so the kind of footwear Jack had in mind for him wouldn’t be that much of a stretch. Jack liked boots that stretched all the way up to the knee, covered in shiny leather and studded with metal. Dagger sharp heels, too. If he felt a little permissive, he might even allow Rhys to dig the tips into his chest or stomach. Though he heavily favored causing pain to others, Jack could enjoy a little masochism on occasion.

As long as Rhys knew his place, it’d be fine, and the kid was nothing if not loyal. He advised Jack on certain matters, giving a second opinion whenever the CEO needed it, but when push came to shove he’d always defer to Jack’s call. Like a good boy.

Rhys suddenly coughed to the right, drawing Jack’s attention. He tilted his head further in the direction of his assistant, watching him more directly. Rhys didn’t notice, grabbing for a sip of water to ease his cough before returning to work. Jack watched his throat bob as he swallowed, his fist clenching atop his desk.

_Has Rhys ever sucked a dick before_? He wondered, eyes briefing drifting down between his legs to his own crotch. He could see Rhys there already, hands nervously braced against Jack’s knees. Fun as it would be to discover Rhys had been a secret blowjob machine all along, he couldn’t push the idea of a virginal, eager-to-please version of his assistant zipped down his pants and taking his cock in hand like it were made of gold, treating it with reverent nerves as he nudged the head of Jack’s dick in between his tremblinglips.

But a blowjob would just be the start. Jack couldn’t possibly be satisfied with exploring Rhys’ mouth alone. He wanted to take his time, to properly  _savor_  the young man, to draw him out like a piece of sinew, pull him taunt and ready to snap, pliable to Jack’s own pleasure.

And his appetite for pleasure was  _bottomless_.

Jack’s eyes fluttered half closed, shadowing out the rest of the office until Rhys was all he could focus on.

_God._ One thing he’d love to do would be to put Rhys in a corset before he properly screwed him. One of the few things he regretted following his breakup and subsequent bad blood with Moxxi was that now he couldn’t properly enjoy the way that kind of garment pinched and sucked someone in at the sides without being reminded of old, bitter feelings. But Rhys was new enough,  _exceptional_ enough that Jack could feel himself swayed back if only he got a chance to stick Rhys in one. Sure, he probably didn’t have a woman’s waist, even when stripped of his stiff vest and shirt, but with a corset cinched around him Jack could force one into being.

He wanted to dress Rhys up in stockings, watching the fragile, pearly fabric slid over his legs—Jack liked to imagine Rhys shaved, but if not, he would do it for him—before he clipped them to the underside of the corset with delicate little garter belts. He’d get behind Rhys, maybe even have the young man sit in his lap, He wanted to pull the cords and watch Rhys’ waist tighten under the corset’s tight boning, until his breath became labored and he looked up at Jack with wet, desperate eyes and flushed cheeks. He wanted to see tears dripping down that beautiful face as Rhys realized his right to breath was entirely clenched within Jack’s fists.

He could feel something warm deep in his stomach churning at the thought of Rhys gasping for breath. A little bit of pain really did Jack in, like the last pinch of pepper atop a perfectly crafted meal.

He leaned back further into his chair, one hand drifting down below the edge of his desk to rest against his upper thigh.

Sometimes his fantasies got darker. Things he’d never been able to execute before, considering most of his lays had always wanted to continue  _living_  after a night with Jack. He was sure there was some sick creep somewhere on Hyperion that wouldn’t mind if Handsome Jack stabbed or strangled the life out of them, to sacrifice themselves on the altar of his holy boner, but he knew all too well the kinds of men and women who fell in that category, and they didn’t exactly overlap with the group he usually considered safe or appealing to bang. The group that now revolved around his lovely assistant.

Yet he didn’t want to kill Rhys. Wouldn’t dare do it, he’d miss the pretty young man too much, and it seemed a waste to throw away daily interactions with his obsession for one fleeting moment of pleasure. It wouldn’t be worth it, as much as Jack relished short-term gratification.

But within the safety of his own mind, Jack could entertain even the most vile of fantasies. After all, Rhys would bleed  _so_  nice and pretty. His skin looked so soft and pale, almost fuzzy and glowing at the edges like some kind of angel constantly blessing Jack with his presence.

He wanted to taint it so badly.

Jack had a blade tucked away in the drawer of his desk back at his penthouse bedroom. It lay nestled in a fancy box lined with plum velvet, a gift from an antiques dealer Jack had once aided in plundering some ruins deep within Hyperion-controlled territory. He’d kept the blade razor-sharp over the years, its steel perfectly oiled and ornate gold handle free of grime and dust. He could see the glow of the red pommel stone in his mind’s eye, always tempting him with the delicious color it could draw from only the most special of victims.

The edge of the knife would look wonderful pressed up against Rhys’ skin, the cuts to his flesh so fine at first they’d be imperceptible until blood swelled up from the delicate wounds and started to trickle down Rhys’ skin. Jack imagined it’d cling to the wispy hairs he’d noted on Rhys’ human forearm that he’d assumed and hoped patterned the rest of his body.

He would love to watch as the blood trickled down from the cuts he made in Rhys’ flesh, listen to the little cries of pain as they spilled from his lips. He would drink them happily, pressing their mouths together as his fingers spread through the blood dripping down Rhys’ body, feeling it grow tacky as it smeared against his skin.

Jack was no artist, no man concerned with beauty aside from worship of his own image, but still he felt he could paint a beautiful piece in blood on Rhys’ body. It helped having such a wondrous canvas, after all.

The sudden  _screech_  of wheels against steel floor snapped Jack out of his daydreams. He rapidly blinked the fog from his eyes as Rhys suddenly appeared far closer than he’d been before. It took Jack a couple of seconds to get back to reality and realize Rhys had risen up from his chair, looking over at him with an expectant expression.

“Is there anything else you need me to do today, sir?” Jack’s eyes quickly flicked to the monitor to his left. Wow. Quitting time already? The afternoon had really just  _flown_  by.

Rhys already had his messenger bag slung over his shoulder, delicate fingers of his flesh hand twiddling against the strap as he stood still. Waiting on Jack’s command. Briefly, he wondered what Rhys would do if he gave voice to any of the numerous fantasies that’d swarmed his mind. The temptation danced on the tip of his tongue for a moment, before he smothered it with a coy smile that held so much back that Rhys would never understand.  

“Nope. You can go home now, sugar.”


End file.
